


don't you worry, don't you worry, child

by petroltogo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mentions of (Multiple) Suicides (By The Same Person), Mentions of Character Death, Nobody's Gonna See Morgan Coming, Poor Pepper, Poor Tony, Tony Stark Feels, Tony is a good dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 12:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18716920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petroltogo/pseuds/petroltogo
Summary: [ENDGAME SPOILERS]Morgan Stark is five years old when she learns that, no matter how much her Daddy loves her, he still won’t come back home.(Morgan Stark is eight years old the first time she enters death’s realm.)





	don't you worry, don't you worry, child

Morgan Stark is five years old when she learns that, no matter how much her Daddy loves her, he still won’t come back home.

*

Morgan Stark is eight years old the first time she enters death’s realm.

(’Enters’ might be a bit of a stretch. She crashes head-first into one of the old memorial stones filled with names of the ones who faded, the ones who came back, cracks her head open on _Kacey Lin_ and probably leaks blood and brain juice all the way down to _Su Lin_. She probably should’ve let one of the grown-ups take a look at the modifications she’s made on her kart, but Morgan wanted to win the race and she’s very smart. Everyone keeps saying so.  Besides it’s not that bad. She never liked those stupid memorial stones anyways.)

[Morgan has no concept of dead beyond that _that’s where Daddy is_ , and nobody alive really knows what it’s like. Not even the Returned. Believe me, Morgan asked. Some of the really old people – like Mrs. Danielle who is _way_ older than Mom – call it ‘heaven’. It makes Morgan think of soft, fluffy clouds and lots of white and angel wings.

Real death is nothing like that, but that’s okay. Morgan is old enough now – eight and three months already – to know that clouds aren’t actually soft and fluffy, no matter how comfortable they look from afar. 

Besides she doesn’t think Daddy would like sitting on clouds and watching them all from afar all day. He’d be bored and Morgan hates being bored.

Real death is like when Morgan was really little and used to sneak out of bed to quietly climb down the stairs and watch Daddy make numbers and pictures appear in the air like magic – only better because  _science_. Morgan is smiling as she slowly sits down on the second last step and she doesn’t even wonder why her head doesn’t hurt and her left arm stopped aching and her knees aren’t scraped bloody.

Because there’s her dad, humming under his breath as he adjusts a screw on DUM-E – the one that always gets loose, no matter how often Daddy or Morgan fix it because DUM-E likes the attention – and Morgan doesn’t understand why she’s crying.

She must have made a sound because suddenly Daddy whirls around like so many other times that have become blurry and unfocused over time. Only he doesn’t smile down at her, doesn’t lift her up in his arms and carries her back to bed and it _hurts_.

Daddy drops the screwdriver instead. He’s pale, stark-white – and Petey would giggle at that because Petey loves stupid jokes even though he’s supposed to be all adult and serious now – and trembling.

“Morgan?” he asks shakily, like maybe he isn’t sure if he’s dreaming. (Like maybe he isn’t sure if he’s having a nightmare.)

Morgan has listened to recordings of her Dad almost daily for years, but it’s different somehow, to hear his voice for real. No matter how good the quality, a recording isn’t the same. She hadn’t realized until this moment that she’s forgotten how her Dad sounds for real.

Then she’s in his arms, warm and secure and close, and she’s forgotten this too, forgotten how much she misses it, but Morgan doesn’t care because Daddy is here, finally, and nothing else matters.

“Oh Maguna, what are you doing here?” Daddy murmurs into her hair and pulls her closer.]

Morgan Stark is eight when she wakes up next to one of the stupid memorial stones with a murderous headache, blood caked down half her face, seven new ideas to improve her kart and the knowledge that her dad is _fine_ and _within reach_ and _loves her, three thousand, always_ nestled deep beneath her sternum, where nothing can touch it.

(Mom screams when she sees Morgan and insists on taking her to the hospital, even though she’s obviously _fine_ , mutters “just like your father,” under her breath and Morgan can’t stop smiling.)

*

Morgan Stark is nine years old the first time she visits her dad on purpose.

(It’s not actually that hard because humans are soft, squishy things, just like Mr Hulk told her once before Mom hastily ushered her away to have a _chat_ with him. She takes care not to make a mess – Mom always panics when Morgan wakes up covered in blood, even if it isn’t her fault. And she really doesn’t want to worry Mom. So she swallows lots of sleeping pills instead. Morgan doesn’t like that at all. Makes her brain go all fuzzy and real slow and her body feel heavy until she’s almost sinking, even though there isn’t any water anywhere near her and Morgan _hates_ it.

She wakes up with cotton in her mouth and a pounding behind her temples and covered in throw-up. So not doing that again, even if Dad hadn’t made her promise to never come visit him again on purpose.

Can dead people suffer a heart attack?)

*

Morgan Stark is nine and three-quarters years old the first time she spends Christmas with her dad again.

(She doesn’t do it on purpose, not really. Because Dad made her promise and Morgan takes her promises very seriously – and she’s never seen her Dad, who isn’t afraid of _anything_ , not even Thanos, so panicked.

But it’s a bad day and Christmas isn’t supposed to be bad. Christmas is supposed to be a family holiday. Morgan wakes up in a terrible mood because it’s Christmas and her dad isn’t gonna be there and it’s not his fault but that doesn’t make it fair. It doesn’t help that she hasn’t seen him in _forever_ because of that stupid promise.

She gets into an argument with Mom who’s trying, trying, trying, but Morgan can’t talk about this with her and it’s so much easier to start yelling about which dress to wear for the big party Morgan doesn’t want to attend. Then she’s running out of the door, doesn’t look back, world blurry and unfocused, and Morgan doesn’t hear the blaring car horn until it’s too late.)

[Dad is that weird mixture of happy and sad when he sees her. Morgan swears that it was an accident, that she’s keeping her promise, but he just hugs her until she stops trembling, then asks her which car she’d like to take apart.

The workshop is bigger than Morgan remembers it being, bathed in a humming, pulsing blue light that soothes her and makes Dad tip his head back and forth rhythmically. They spend Christmas Eve like that, taking an old engine apart, her Dad walking her through the different steps and adding little stories of what he did with the various cars around them while they’re working. They’re covered in oil and dirt by the end of it, and Morgan feels light enough to float away.]

Morgan races back home as quickly as she can and pulls her Mom into a big hug, mumbling “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” until Mom presses a kiss to her forehead and tells her all is forgiven. It’s a good thing there wasn’t much blood this time or Morgan would’ve completely ruined her dress. And if Mom notices the engine oil under her finger nails, she doesn’t say a word.

The party isn’t as bad as Morgan thought it would be either.

(That night, she falls asleep with her Dad’s old arc reactor on her pillow, bathing her room in blue light.)

*

Morgan Stark is ten years old the first time her dad isn’t alone when she stops by.

(Supervillains have become a thing again in the last two years, once the world recovered from the shock of having the lost ones returned, or so Mom tells her. Morgan hadn’t really cared beyond watching the occasional fight on TV. That gets a whole lot harder when some stupid guy in a bloated, black and yellow suit that makes him look like an oddly-deformed bumblebee almost blows up her school.

One moment, Morgan is racing through equations that are way too obvious, the next she’s sent flying. It’s not instant, this time. And not painless either. That’s what happens when you get a wall dropped onto you, crushing your arms and legs but somehow missing your head.

From afar, Morgan hears shouts and yells and sirens, but she’s too happy to finally _trip_ to care.)

[There’s a woman sitting in a chair in Dad’s workshop. She’s sipping on some fancy drink with a lot of fruits on top of it that Morgan eyes curiously, her feet resting on the table. Her hair is an odd red-and-white-blonde color and Morgan gets the brief impression of a couple of strangers showing up at their home, of chatting with Dad until he’s angry, of Dad leaving and not coming back.

Abstractly, Morgan knows Natasha Romanoff. She knows everyone who didn’t survive that last fight against Thanos – mostly because the list is a whole lot shorter than the one after the first battle.

For some reason, even though she knows Miss Natasha used to be a friend of Mom and Dad, Morgan hadn’t expected to run into her here. Miss Natasha watches her through narrowed eyes, not unfriendly exactly, but thoughtful. Dad sweeps her into a hug, then introduces them and if it wasn’t for the meaningful way in which Miss Natasha says, “ _Tony_ ,” it would have been like any other time Mom drags her along to meet her friends.

Dad shrugs and shakes his hand – there’s a lot exchanged there that Morgan doesn’t really understand – and then Morgan starts rambling about her grades and Mom’s date and the stupid attack on her school while Dad shows her how to fix her arc reactor nightlight and Miss Natasha sips on her drink and watches.

“Do you know Clint Barton?” Miss Natasha suddenly asks, interrupting Dad in a list of acceptable responses to stupid teachers who can’t admit when they’re wrong.

Morgan frowns. Runs through the many people she’s met at some point or another, some at Dad’s funeral, some in front of his grave, some outside of all that. Nods.

Miss Natasha smiles. It’s an evil expression Morgan can’t wait to learn.]

Spiderman is the one to frantically push the rubble aside until he finds Morgan coughing up a storm from all the dust. She can hear his heavy sigh of relief and squeezes his hand in wordless comfort.

“Thank god!” he says emphatically. “It’s a freaking miracle you didn’t get squashed, kiddo!”

Morgan’s too busy coughing to respond.

*

Morgan Stark is fifteen years old the first time she builds herself a suit.

It makes Mom cry and Dad make her promise to _be safe_ and _be smart_ and _leave the hero-stuff to the old smartasses like Captain America_ – Dad calls him Cap 2.0 – before he sits her down and talks programming and welding with her. Really, it’s not like she wants to fight anyways. Morgan just wants to _fly_.

It falls apart before she even gets to the testing stage. Not that it stops her. She’ll just have to make the next one better.

*

Morgan Stark is eight years old when she accepts that, no matter how much her Daddy loves her, he still won’t come back home. That’s okay though.

Morgan can always come to him. 

**Author's Note:**

> _before_
> 
> [”I am Iron Man,” Tony says.
> 
>  _Get the fuck off my planet_ , he doesn’t say.
> 
> This ends now.
> 
> And if this is the only way for everyone, for _Morgan_ to live, to grow old, safe and happy and brilliant like he knows she’ll be in whatever she chooses to do, that’s then so be it.
> 
> Space, Mind, Reality, Power, Time and Soul glow, shine, _burn_.
> 
> Whatever it takes.
> 
>  _See you on the other side_.
> 
>  **Snap**.]


End file.
